Rosh Hashanah - Coming Together Again

Rosh Hashanah Day 1 - Coming Together Again
Tuesday, September 7, 2021
Congregation Beth Israel
Rabbi Howard Tilman

הִנֵּה מַה־טּוֹב וּמַה־נָּעִים שֶׁבֶת אַחִים גַּם־יָחַד׃

How good and how pleasant it is when people, when friends, sit and dwell together as one. (Psalm 133:1)

The year 5782 is beginning with some of the same feelings as 5781, yet it also begins with many different feelings. For the past several weeks, all of us have been unsure of what to expect on this day. Plans have changed week-to-week as conditions have continued to evolve. With so much uncertainty during these weeks it has been challenging to figure out exactly what I wanted to say this morning, and so in the greatest of rabbinic traditions, I called on a skill I’ve been developing my whole life - waiting ‘til the last minute. That way, we’d at least have a shared understanding of what is happening now, as opposed to how things felt just two months ago.

When I first started really thinking about this sermon, I had even bigger hopes of a room that felt full - both physically and spiritually - and while the room is not as full physically as we might have hoped, spiritually it is overflowing. It is still an incredibly special feeling to look out at a room with more people in it than at any time over the past two years.

For those who are joining at home, please know that we do “see” you and feel your presence with us. It’s a difficult decision whether to be here or at home, and I understand whatever decision you made. I hope, as we all do, that circumstances will change in the coming months and the decision becomes less difficult, and that when it does, we’ll all be together right here.

Think back with me just a few months to the start of June. After a stressful period of trying to find vaccine appointments, things were getting easier. In our area, vaccination rates were rising quickly and infections rates were falling even faster. Attendance limits and mask mandates were beginning to fade away and this summer felt like it just might be what we all needed - a sense of openness, fun, and a return to the lives we once recognized. And if all that wasn’t enough, In The Heights was about to premiere on HBO Max.

If you aren’t familiar with it, before there was Hamilton, there was In The Heights. A musical by Lin-Manuel Miranda telling the story of Washington Heights and the predominantly hispanic community he grew up in. Originally premiering on Broadway in 2008, the show was remade as a movie set to be released in 2020. But, like all movies, and really everything in 2020, there was a change of plans so the movie’s release was pushed back to June of this year. Part of what made it unusual though, was the movie was released both in theaters and on HBO’s online streaming platform so people would not have to go to theaters if they weren’t comfortable doing so. This was not uncontroversial, especially in the film industry as many movies rely on box office ticket sales to make their money. Controversy aside, it meant on that weekend in June, Naomi and I could sit on our couch and watch In the Heights at home. And it was amazing. The music, the dancing, the rhythms, just the joy of watching crowds gather together on screen captured the moment and everything we were feeling while looking forward to a special summer.

Two days later, I was looking for something to do to relax on a day off. In normal times, just about my favorite thing to do is to go to the movies. Believe me, there’s nothing like a theater at 11:30 on a Monday morning. But given the pandemic, and a daughter born just before it began, it had been nearly 18 months since I’d gotten to see anything. But on that Monday, I finally felt comfortable enough to return to the movies. And so, wearing my mask, I was there for a mid-day showing of… In the Heights. Yes again.

Did anything about the movie change in those two days? Of course not. But my experience watching it sure did. I liked it even better. Yes, the screen was bigger and the sound was louder, and don’t get me wrong that definitely enhanced the experience, but that wasn’t the main reason for the change. I enjoyed it so much more because in spite of how we’ve all spent the past 18 months, movies, like so many other experiences, are meant to be enjoyed together. To sit, hopefully not too close, and to hear other people laughing and humming under their breath, to know that they are sharing the experience with you. Yes, even complete strangers. 

That feeling is sometimes known as “collective effervescence”; when a community comes together to simultaneously communicate the same thought and participate in the same action. This shared experience causes excitement, and helps unify a group. As Adam Grant, writer and Dr of organizational psychology explains it, “Collective effervescence is the synchrony you feel when you slide into rhythm with strangers on a dance floor, colleagues in a brainstorming session, cousins at a religious service or teammates on a soccer field. And during this pandemic, it’s been largely absent from our lives.” (https://www.nytimes.com/2021/07/10/opinion/sunday/covid-group-emotions-happiness.html)

Do you remember March and April of last year? Every routine we had, every opportunity for connection was challenged. Laughing together at a movie, learning with strangers at a museum, getting together with friends for a nice dinner, and sitting together in this sanctuary. We kept telling ourselves that these opportunities would be back soon. Just another few weeks, just another few months. But even as some feelings of normalcy returned, those moments of collective effervescence were still missing. We tried to replace them, or at least have a taste of them in a variety of ways. Zoom classes and cooking demos are fine, but not quite the same as being in the same room. Joining an online book club helped keep us reading and learning, but we missed sitting together in the same room. Sure, we could all watch the same movies at home and talk about them with friends, but that too wasn’t the same feeling. 

One of my favorite ways of looking for that feeling during some of the hardest months was by watching reaction videos - videos taken from inside a movie theater where you hear the crowd reacting in real time. (If you haven’t spent 20 minutes listening to a real crowd react to the final battle in Avengers Endgame, you don’t know what you’re missing.) Also, instead of listening to music as I normally would, I started to try and find “live” versions, ones recorded in front of a crowd. (Or watching the movie of Hamilton, recorded live on stage, instead of the soundtrack.) Something about hearing the crowd singing along and the performers feeding off their energy just gave it a different feeling.

I sought out those feelings of connection and collective effervescence in those ways, because I missed it in so many other areas, none more so than in this room. Believe me, talking just to Cantor Axelrod got old pretty quickly. Trying to teach to mostly empty chairs, to faces on screens, to faces behind masks, you just can never know if you’re getting through. As much as we can appreciate quiet moments for our own reflection, and listening to the Cantor lead us, we crave the moments of singing together and hearing each other’s voices. Our prayers are not the same without collective effervescence. If this concept rings particularly true for synagogue life and religion in general, there’s a good reason for it. Emile Durkheim, who coined the term, was born into a lineage of rabbis in the French Jewish community. He even began his own studies to become a rabbi before changing to Sociology.

And it is a particularly astute observation about Jewish life. We read in the opening chapters of Genesis, לֹא־ט֛וֹב הֱי֥וֹת הָֽאָדָ֖ם לְבַדּ֑וֹ - “It is not good for people to be alone.” (Gen 2:18) It is in our nature to want to be together with friends, with community. It’s why so much of our tradition and so many of our rituals require a minyan, an assembly of ten people. Yes, we adapted so ten could gather online, but as fun as virtual backgrounds can be, there’s nothing like the real thing.

It’s an urge we feel particularly strongly on this day too. Rosh Hashanah is usually one of the biggest gatherings we have for the entire year. It’s a time to reconnect with friends we haven’t seen in months, to come back to the place where so much of our identity is forged, and to stand together as individuals united into one. While we tend to view the day with a certain sense of solemnity - we are trying to reflect and repent for the year ahead - it’s also a day of great celebration. Hayom harat olam - today the world was created and we are grateful to be here for another year. 

This was the atmosphere that was present in ancient times. The Bible describes in the Book of Nehemiah, that following the exile to Babylonia, all the people gathered together back in Jerusalem for a great celebration on Rosh Hashanah.

Nehemiah 8
On the first day of the seventh month (Rosh Hashanah), Ezra the priest brought the Teaching (likely an early version of the Torah) before the congregation, men and women and all who could listen with understanding. He read from it, facing the square before the Water Gate, from the first light until midday (and you think our services are long…)... the ears of all the people were given to the scroll of the Teaching. (2-3)
They read from the scroll of the Teaching of God, translating it and giving the sense; so they understood the reading. Nehemiah the Tirshatha, Ezra the priest and scribe, and the Levites who were explaining to the people said to all the people, “This day is holy to the LORD your God: you must not mourn or weep,” for all the people were weeping as they listened to the words of the Teaching. He further said to them, “Go, eat choice foods and drink sweet drinks and send portions to whoever has nothing prepared, for the day is holy to our Lord. Do not be sad, for your rejoicing in the LORD is the source of your strength.” The Levites were quieting the people, saying, “Hush, for the day is holy; do not be sad.” Then all the people went to eat and drink and send portions and make great merriment, for they understood the things they were told. (8-12)

I know it’s difficult to look around this Rosh Hashanah and feel like celebrating and “making great merriment” when so many of us are not here, and when we still cannot truly see each other’s faces. But it is a celebration, both in how far we have come and in all we have to look forward to. We’ve learned a great deal in the year since last Rosh Hashanah. We do have a better understanding of this virus and how it spreads. And thanks to the modern miracles of medical science we have vaccines which will bring about the end of this pandemic. I don’t use that term lightly by the way. A modern miracle. For the virus to be decoded and a vaccine developed as quickly as it was, is truly without precedent and we look to God’s presence within all the scientists and doctors who made it possible giving us these modern miracles.

There have been moments this past year that have felt particularly dark and without hope. But there have also been moments that have felt almost normal, with a feeling of light shining on us from not too far away. While it’s tempting to dwell in either of those feelings on their own, we know that they come together with one leading to the other. As the Psalms teach us, הַזֹּרְעִים בְּדִמְעָה בְּרִנָּה יִקְצֹרוּ - those who sow in tears will reap in joy (Psalm 126:5). הָפַכְתָּ מִסְפְּדִי לְמָחוֹל לִי פִּתַּחְתָּ שַׂקִּי וַתְּאַזְּרֵנִי שִׂמְחָה - You turned my mourning into dancing, you undid my sackcloth and girded me with joy (Psalm 30:12). Yes, there is still much to grieve, but we also have a great deal to celebrate and to celebrate together.

I know we are not all the way there yet. There is still work to do and more vaccines to distribute. So I understand why many are joining us online today. I understand it and am grateful you made that choice to protect yourself and to protect others. Nothing comes before the sanctity and preservation of life. But as more weeks and months go by, there will be a time where we do feel safer all assembling as one. Will everything be perfectly safe? No. Will there still be risks? Yes, just as there always are. Coming back together will never be totally risk free. It’s just worth it. 
It’s worth it to stand together again in one room, to hear each other’s voices, to experience the collective effervescence that’s been missing from our lives.

Last March, after we had lived through one week of Pandemic we thought would only last a few more, when we gathered together online for Shabbat for the very first time, I shared this story with you about King Solomon the Wise.

The legend goes that Solomon wanted to humble his wisest student so he asked him to perform an impossible task. “Bring me a magic ring,” Solomon said. “One that if it is worn by a happy person, it will make him sad, but if worn by a sad person, will make him happy.” The student was stumped. He did not know what to do for this truly was an impossible task. On the night before he was to report back to the king, he had an idea. He went to a local jeweler and had him inscribe three words on a ring.

The next day, the student brought the ring to King Solomon and presented it. Solomon looked down at the ring, and a tear began to fall from his eye. “You have done it,” he said. “You have found this magic ring, for truly these words can make a happy man sad, and a sad man happy. You have proven your wisdom.”

What did the ring say? The three words in Hebrew, גַּם זֶה יַעֲבֹר, this too shall pass. It is this phrase that has so much power and wisdom. It’s a reminder that success is only fleeting. Even the good times may be short-lived as life is never without adversity. But it’s also a reminder that  bad times will pass too. No matter what adversity we face, things will get better. 

As 5781 becomes 5782, we remember that this too shall pass. Better days are ahead. We will join together and feel the collective effervescence again. And when we do, we won’t just head into the heights, we’ll go even higher.

May 5782 bless us with health, happiness, and shared sweetness. Amen.